


Baby, It's Cold Inside!

by soufflegirl91



Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2019 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, MI6 Cafe Anon Prompt Gift Exchange, Pre-Relationship, jacuzzi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: He wasn’t supposed to get caught.Q never would have done it if he thought he would get caught. Especially not if he had any inkling that Bond would be the one to catch him. Who the hell hangs around the double oh locker room at two in the morning, anyway?Well, Bond. Obviously.Sometimes, Q really, really hated his life.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564555
Comments: 18
Kudos: 154
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Baby, It's Cold Inside!

**Author's Note:**

> For the MI6 Cafe Anon Gift Exchange 2019. 
> 
> Written for the prompt:  
> The heat is broken at six. Q is so cold that the only solution is to sneak into the agents' locker room and use the jacuzzi. Except... well we can guess which agent always lingers long after hours. Naughty naughty. James finds Q naked and sipping tea and climbs right in. What could go wrong?
> 
> Thanks to Mely and Christine for beta-reading :)

He wasn’t supposed to get caught. 

Q never would have done it if he thought he would get caught. _Especially_ not if he had any inkling that _Bond_ would be the one to catch him. Who the hell hangs around the double oh locker room at two in the morning, anyway? 

Well, Bond. Obviously. 

Sometimes, Q really, really hated his life. 

The thing is, Q didn’t handle the cold very well. Oh, he was used to working around computers and huge racks of servers that needed to be kept cool, but even though the rooms were cooled, the equipment gave off enough heat to keep Q branch from being too frigid. Anyone who spent any length of time there learned very quickly that the Q branch dress code was “wear layers.” 

Today, though, layers just weren’t going to cut it. 

It was December, so the sudden cold spell was hardly unheard of, even if -4ºc was particularly chilly for London. Wrapped up in his hat, scarf and gloves, not to mention his lovely warm parka, Q could cope with the cold as he walked from home to the Tube and then from the station to MI6. The brisk walk and a travel mug of tea did wonders to keep him toasty. 

It was when he got to work that disaster struck. 

The heating was broken.

It was December, the heating was broken, and _he worked in the bloody basement_. 

Being a benevolent overlord, Q sent all but the absolutely necessary staff home. HR and Payroll would probably thank him for making his minions use up some of the many, many hours of lieu time they were owed, and he would make sure no one lost out on any annual leave time because of a maintenance issue. MI6 staff didn’t exactly have the luxury of working from home, after all, least of all Q branch. One couldn’t build innovative deadly weapons on one’s dining table - well, Q had _that one time_ , but what M didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Q’s free time was his own.

Q and his skeleton crew held down the fort, bundled up in their outdoor clothes, and so the day progressed. The usual soundtrack of tapping keys was occasionally accompanied by chattering teeth, prompting one of the minions to do a tea round, and so the cycle continued. There wasn’t enough tea in the world to keep warm all day, but somehow they managed. 

Until, just as Q was about to go home, 001 decided not to follow instructions, and everything went to shit. 

If 001 had just _listened_ to Q in the first place, but no, he was “onto something” - it turned out the “something” was a trap. It took hours to fix. What should have been a quick get-in-and-get-out mission became a MI6-made-the-front-page-again clusterfuck, but everyone who needed to be alive was on their way home, and the suspect organisation they had been after had been neutralised. Or rather, obliterated. As in, their headquarters were now a smoking ruin. Oops.

So now, not only did Q have to explain to M why there was a bloody big missing building in Beirut, he had been stuck in this freezing cold office for hours longer than necessary.

When 001 finally landed back on British soil, Q was going to kill him. No, he was going to _drag him by the ear to Sainsbury’s and lock him in a bloody freezer._

Here Q was, long after the last Tube home, too cold to even contemplate the walk from the nearest bus stop to his flat. 

If he was going to pay the astronomical cost of a London cab, he was damned well going to warm up, first! 

There really was only one thing for it. 

It was a bit of an open secret that the double ohs had a better locker room than the rest of the field agents and support staff. It was one of the perks of regularly being shot at. 

What _was_ a closely guarded secret, however, was that the double oh locker room had a jacuzzi. When he’d first seen it on the blueprints after he finally got the clearance, Q had scoffed. Why would they need a jacuzzi? 

But as he’d learned firsthand the horrors of the double oh missions, Q came to the conclusion that anything that helped them relax after _that_ was perfectly reasonable. 

Now, at two in the morning, with frozen fingers and the feeling in his toes gone hours ago, Q reasoned that if 001 got him into this situation, Q had every right to make use of the double oh jacuzzi before he went home. 

Besides, no one would be there at this time of night. 

Checking the CCTV to make sure that the locker room was empty, Q filled his favourite scrabble mug with hot tea and made his way down. Stripping off the clothes he had been wearing for too many hours now, he pushed away the flickering thought of leaving his pants on just in case. 

Nobody was around, and wet underwear was the opposite of relaxing. 

Balancing his mug carefully on the ledge, Q climbed into the jacuzzi, pressing the button to activate the bubbles on his way in. 

Warm for the first time since he got out of bed that morning, Q leant back with a contented sigh, taking a sip of his tea. With the water heating him up from the outside, and the tea doing the job from the inside, it was pure bliss. 

He closed his eyes, basking in the heat. 

How long could he get away with staying in here before he got all pruney? 

“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes.”

_Shit._

Q froze. Maybe it was an auditory hallucination brought on by change in body temperature? Those were a thing… right?

“It’s not every day you get to see the quartermaster take a bath.”

Nope. Not a hallucination. The splashing as he got settled must have covered the sound of the door. Heaven knows the double ohs could move silently when they wanted to. 

Q reluctantly peeked one eye open. 

James Bond, clearly fresh from a workout, looked like the cat who ate the canary. 

“Enjoying yourself, Q?” 

Oh, the smug bastard. _Why_ hadn’t Q thought to check the CCTV in the gym, too?! Quickly running through the lack of available options - he could get out, but that would mean letting _Bond see him naked_ and Q absolutely did _not_ trust his body to behave under scrutiny from those blue icicles Bond called eyes - Q fell back on snark.

“Tremendously,” he glowered, “at least, I was until you turned up.”

If anything, Bond looked even more pleased with himself. Q cursed him, silently. 

“Oh, don’t let me bother you, Q,” Bond replied, in that butter-wouldn’t-melt tone he used far too often, in Q’s opinion. He pulled his damp shirt over his head, revealing a torso Q would never, _ever_ admit that he had thought about licking. Once or twice. A week. 

Q’s mouth went dry. 

“Wha- Huh-?” He coughed, and tried again. “What do you think you are doing, 007?”

Q had aimed for disapproving, but it came out sounding rather more strangled than he had anticipated.

“Oh, I always take a soak in the jacuzzi after a workout, Q,” Bond replied with a cheeky smile. He skimmed out of his tracksuit bottoms and removed his trainers and socks, standing there in just his pants, proud as a peacock. His hands moved to the waistband and started to tug them down...

Oh, holy shit. Q was going to die. He was going to die in a jacuzzi at two in the morning. 

Cause of death: naked James Bond. 


End file.
